Family Secrets, The Life We Lead
by My Chemical Romance's Bandit
Summary: Dave's gone, and the chipmunks have been separated, when a new and deadlier enemy makes itself apparent, will they be able to re-unite? Or will the family stay separated by the dark and terrible mystery surrounding Dave's murder? Warning: may be upsetting to younger viewers on occasional chapters.
1. Where Did It All Go Wrong?

**I have decided that it would be better if i put a song extract into this.**

**To all minors: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 13 YEARS OF AGE**

**Chapter One - Where Did It All Go Wrong?**

* * *

_I know you feel like, the walls are closing in on you,_

_Its hard to find relief,_

_And people can be so cold._

Crash And Burn - Savage Garden

* * *

"Have you any change?" The young chipmunk in red rags put on his best cute face, enlarged his eyes until they were almost the size of small teacups, and pulled his ears back against his head. He was huddled in a minute space, the only place on the street that wasn't covered in snow. This action seemed to sway the lady in his favour, for she plunged her hand into her large leather handbag and when it emerged it held a woollen cap, a $20 bill and a fancy card.  
"If your predicament gets any worse, call me, or go to this address, say 'I am here to speak with lady Wilson' and show my butler the card. You will be let in."  
Alvin thought he heard his name uttered on the end of her breath, but decided that it was merely the wind playing tricks on him. By the time he reached this conclusion though, lady Wilson was gone. She had vanished in the streets of Los Angeles amongst the vast crowds of people hoping to get a last-minute present, or find a good bargain in a shop window.  
After scanning the crowds for a brief second, he pulled his cap down low on his face, clutched the money and the card to his chest, and started to head back to the green, abandoned shack on the top of the hill, that he, and his childhood friend now called home.

**AaTcAaTcAaTc**

'**Jeanette's POV'**

"Damn thing, light already!" I scratch the rock against Alvin's penknife again, and finally a small trail of smoke emerges from the centre of the wood shavings, I gently blow on it until it catches light and sets fire to the wood beneath it. I take a moment to tie my log, black hair back, even though its in a braid, it still gets in the way. I set the steel kettle over it and wait for it to boil, whilst doing so I let myself remember what exactly caused me and Alvin to end up here...

I remember the day of the funeral; Theodore, Eleanor and Brittany were so upset. I was confused. What had happened that I didn't know about? Why did Simon look so... Numb? Why was Alvin giving Simon these looks that said 'I hope your pleased with yourself'? Why did a couple of them even seem to translate into 'go jump off a cliff, for all I care. I officially disown you as a brother.' And 'You don't have my sympathy' ? What happened between them? What happened to Dave? _What_ went wrong with our family?

Then I remember Alvin and Theodore singing a song that we all knew, me and my sisters included just as they lay our adoptive father to rest, he stood on a bird-feeder and sang his heart out;

(Alvin;)

_We should remember,_  
_Our past favourites,_  
_Fond recollections,_  
_None can compare._

(Alvin and Theodore;)

_If someone leaves us,_  
_Just remember,_  
_Your so much richer,_  
_For all that you shared,_

(Alvin;)

_So look back with love,_  
_Don't despair_

(Alvin, Theodore, me and my sisters;)

_Beautiful memories,_  
_Last a lifetime,_  
_Memories are new every day,_  
_Beautiful memories,_  
_Of our old friends,_  
_Close to our hearts they will stay_

(Theodore;)

_Yes, we will miss them,_  
_But remember,_  
_All of the good times,_  
_All that you've done,_

(Alvin and Theodore;)

_Their warmth and their laughter,_  
_Heartfelt romance,_  
_These should be savoured,_  
_Like golden sun._

_The best of your dreams are to come._

(Alvin, Theodore, me and my sisters;)

_Beautiful memories,_  
_Last a lifetime,_  
_Memories are new every day,_  
_Beautiful memories,_  
_Of our old friends,_  
_Close to our hearts they will stay_  
_Beautiful memories,_  
_Last a lifetime,_  
_They're beside you every day,_  
_Beautiful memories,_  
_Of our old friends,_  
_Close to our hearts they will stay_  
_Close to our hearts they will stay..._

I remember that Alvin and Theodore had tears streaming down their cheeks, all of the Seville's did, including myself.  
Everyone did.  
Except Simon.  
He just stood there, staring at nothing.

I then remember wondering why we couldn't stay together when we went to care homes, from what I gathered, they put the names of the care homes in hats, and we each took a turn to pull one out. They made us do it in age-order, so first it was Alvin, and his brothers, then it was Brit, me and Elli. We never even got to say goodbye, I hadn't seen my sisters or Alvin's brothers since. On the morning of the funeral the house got a phone call from our social worker, Mrs. Grieves, since Elli was nearest the phone, she answered it. She then relayed that the message for us was to have our bags ready, since after we went to the funeral we would be departing for a foster home.

_A_ foster home, not _three._

After the funeral we were directed into the room with the hat in, one by one. When I went inside the room, a man called James Scott said that White Sun Care Home would be taking three of us, and that two had already been chosen to go there. He wouldn't tell me who. Then he said that Stowey House would be taking two more of us, I was to be one of them, whilst he wouldn't tell me who the other was, just that I would see soon enough. Then he explained what W.S.C.H was like, followed by Stowey House, and finishing with Pentire Manner House. Then, once we (well, everyone but me and Simon) had chosen our home, we were shown out the back door to our private cars. I was just loading my belongings in with Alvin's when I looked towards the road that would take me out of here.

I saw Simon.

He saw me.

I will never forget what he looked like that day. When he walked into the room he was all presentable. Looking at me from the back of the taxi, he looked like someone had dragged him through a mile-thick-hedge backwards and removed all of the leaves and twigs from his clothes.

Looking back I realise I should have done something when Simon started yelling at the care-workers. From what I collected, all anyone else could make out of his yells were things like 'that's not fair!' And 'You have no right!' But I heard the whole thing, being as good as blind for the first half of my life enhanced my hearing, and when Simon went through the door I payed special attention to what the social-workers were saying to him, and what he was replying.  
I wish now I hadn't.  
But I had, I heard every stinking word of it. And Simon's kindness still haunts me. First I heard the woman explaining about how we had to be split up, (to which it sounded like Simon went into a state of shock) then I heard her explaining what each of the care homes was like, she put the cold, hard truth on the table. She explained that Stowey House was probably the nicest, and you had the best chances of being adopted there, although you would most likely have to share a room. Then said that White Sun Care Home had a decent reputation, they just had to do a few more chores than average 9 year-olds would have to. She then put on the table that Pentire Manner House gave you a good chance of being fostered, although it was extremely strict there. No skimping on perfection whatsoever. Up by six, teeth brushed, neatly dressed, beds made, and breakfast cooked by half past, and chores from seven to twelve, make lunch, clean it away, homework, cook dinner, clean it up. The list was never-ending. It was almost like she was trying to scare Simon out of picking it.  
But where you go to is down to luck, right?  
Well, it would be, but Simon changed that for me by uttering those next words.  
"I'll go to Pentire Manner House if you send Jeanette to Stowey House. She will never want to look at me again anyway."  
I suppose that's why I didn't have to plunge my hand into a hat to decide my fate.

* * *

I am brought out of my memoirs as I heard 'tap-tap-tap-tappity-tap!' Which I know is Alvin's secret knock. I pull myself up, grab my shawl and walk to the door. I pull up the piece of rag that covers a crack in the wood me and Alvin use for a peephole and look through, Alvin stands alone on the pile of logs we use as a porch, his nose bleeding heavily, some of the blood has already frozen onto his face, and he has a black eye, but he stands there all the same.  
I unlock the door and pull it open, the moment I do, Alvin darts in, throws his coat on the floor, jumps (literally) out of his worn boots and bolts to the fireplace.  
Despite his black eye, bloody nose,- and now that I notice it - what looks like a broken hand, he has the giddy smile he used to wear.  
The smile that was constantly worn by his younger self, now illuminated his face

It lit up his face even more when I realised that he hadn't smiled like that since the day Dave died.

* * *

**okay, so it's easier to put my disclaimer at the end! Which is what I am doing!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, David Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, Miss Miller (Or Rebecca), or any of the other characters featured in this story! (Unless they're mine, and YOU WILL KNOW, because I WILL TELL YOU).**


	2. What's New?

**To all minors: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE**

**Chapter Two - What's new?**

* * *

_I'll be there for you,_

_When the rain starts to fall,_

_I'll be there for you,_

_Like I been there before,_

_I'll be there for you,_

_'Cause your there for me to._

Ill be there for you - The Remberantz

* * *

********Alvin's POV********

As I huddle in vain in front of the minuscule fire, I realise I'm not going to get either warmer or dryer with all this snow matted into my fur. I quickly rise, pull off my hoodie, and scan the single room that is mine and Jeanette's house. Turning clockwise I see the corner where we keep the kettle, along with the old pots, knives and forks we found already here. Turning further I see the second corner, in which there is a coat and shoe rack (actually there is just a couple of wooden hooks I made when I got bored one day at the care home, but we call it the coat rack), next to that is the door, With its worn black cloth that we use to cover the crack in the door which serves as a peephole. Along the wall leading to the next corner is a medium sized base of a sofa, with only one of its two cushions remaining. This serves as my bed, Jeanette has the other cushion in front of the fire because, she says that the wall's of the sofa seem like they're closing in on her, and since she is such a heavy sleeper we, (well I) decided that she should stay in front of the fire. Because, A; she gets colder, easier than me, and B; if anyone comes for us, I can defend her easily from that position. The sofa which serves as my bed is situated in front of a window, so - since I'm a very light sleeper - if anyone is outside, I will hear them before they can reach us.

Spinning again I see the next corner, it's the empty space where we normally keep piles of sticks to start a fire with, but now I don't see anything there.

Not wishing to go over there, I continue my assessment of the room. Next I see the old cupboards that someone had fashioned out of oak, way before we came here. Which were now filled with nuts berries and any other food we could afford. I think: It's a good thing that we're only seven-ish inches tall. Otherwise we wouldn't have any food left, and this shed would seem VERY crowded. Actually, I'm seven inches, Jeanette's seven and a half, no seven point four! Simon is seven point five.

Simon...

Words that I could use to describe him suddenly rush through my head, and I use the other little voice in my head to reply.

Brother? Never.

Sibling? Not even close.

Chipmunk? Only in the literal sense, no further.

Rodent? Close-ish.

Nerd? Only in the insulting sense.

I pause for a second. This is my own brother about thinking about.

No it isn't. Never again.

I try to ignore the little voice in my head, but I lose, soon it consumes my thoughts, it's been doing that a lot lately. Eventually I give in, I learned that if I don't, it just consumes my strength, until eventually I can't fight it any more, I found this out, when I was trying to defend my mind from the dark thoughts that swirl around my memories of my ex-brother Simon.

I feel the darkness delve deeper into my brain than ever before, when it just lightly touched its tips. Like with a clear pool in the middle of some mountains, it would normally glide its fingers across the edge of the pool - the tips of my brain - but now it gathers itself up and begins to full-out throw itself at me, causing momentous splashes, and corrupting the lakes beauty - it muddles up my brain, probes my thoughts, searches through my nightmares, my worst fears, alters my memories to something darker. Then I feel it access a part of my brain I thought I had kept hidden, like a room in a mansion that holds some sort of dark secret, you lock it up, and through away the key, over the years, it slips from your mind more often, but you still know with all your heart and soul that if you keep adding to it, the room just grows larger and larger, until eventually, someone finds the key and opens it, unleashing its terrors upon you. The secrets you kept hidden for so many years.

That's what the darkness is doing to me.

It enters a part of my mind that I had kept hidden from myself so long, that I had completely forgotten what the emotions felt like. The darkness had entered that part of me where I locked away my most powerful emotions, my worst consuming thoughts, my stockpile of pain that had Increased year after year, the torture that i had endured whilst struggling for survival.

Its all his fault...

A memory of Simon, standing on a chess board swirled across my vision, that was the day that decided to challenge Simon to a game. Chess.

I suppose it was my fault. He was only trying to help. I had a massive betting obsession, he said "Alvin, what to play a game of chess with me?" I said that it would be fun and watched as Simon set up the chess pieces, Dave bought us this special set. It's slightly larger than normal chess, but it means that if we want to we can actually play as the pieces. It still amazes me, as to how he can heave theses heavy pieces that are like, taller than him, across the table, and onto the board. One at a time. When he finished setting up, he took his position as Queen, as did I. Then he made his first move.

"fifty dollars on me." he stated plainly.

"one hundred on me." I replied back, calmly. Even though Simon never bets on anything.

"one-fifty" he replied, simply.

"Two, even" I replied, knowing fully well that, that was all of the money I had stored up.

"Done. B2 to b4." continued Simon, acting. If he hadn't just bet all of the money we had kept hidden away on a game of chess, mind you, the next day a new video game that I NEEDED was coming out, so with Simon' s money as well as mine, I should be able afford it without making much of a dent in my stored cash.

Unfortunately, I lost the game. Badly.

Simon had me in check-mate, before five minutes had gone by.

"Come on, Alvin. Cough up." Simon said, as if he'd just asked me where the rest room was. I mentally waved good-bye to Call Of Duty 4 ( N/A: I know that there's only a three, but who says there wont be a fourth? And no, I don't' play it, don't worry), I know that that's the memory, because other than the time on the island when Simon managed to light the fire when I couldn't. And in that memory, he wasn't exactly standing on his precious chess-board.

You remember earlier I mentioned about the secret room in the mansion? The one that haunts you for your whole life, until one day, you are forced to go back into it, and in the middle of it you find the chest, where only the worst of your secrets are kept? And then you open it, and it washes over you, engulfing you. And you suddenly forget how to breath?

That's the feeling I am experiencing right now.

The Darkness opens my chest, it lets out my stockpiles of pain I had endured over the past four years, physically, and emotionally. It lets out all of my gut wrenching-ly real memories of the torture I had endured just to survive. It opens up my memories of the one I loved...

I see Brittany, looking beautiful as always. This was the day of our first date. I took her to a fancy nt in town: The Olive Garden, she - just for this occasion - had ditched her normal pink outfit. And was instead wearing a simple, yet jaw-droppingly elegant white dress. Its long, yet un-tailored sleeves hung around her wrists. Its bottom, was just above the floor, and it swayed whenever she walked. The dress itself fit her perfectly, it covered her flat stomach as if it was specially made for her (okay, seeing as she is a seven inch chipette, it kinda was, but I really didn't care). Around her neck she wore the pink diamond necklace I had given her earlier that day.

In the memory I can still feel the touch of her hand across my cheek. The scent of her hair in my nose. The taste of her strawberry lip gloss against my lips. I can still feel the awe in her beauty and grace, as she silently walks away from the table, and down the cobble path, that on either side of it is littered with beautiful roses of every colour in the rainbow. She reaches her destination at the very end of the path, its on top of a hill. She picks a perfect white rose from a bush next to her, and turns to face me. Her loose hair hangs in curls around her face, framing it perfectly. In the shadows that cross her face, her electric blue eyes shine, like a light in the deepest dark. The streaks of golden light hit her dress and make it appear to be glowing, with the bottom half of it tinted a reddish orange, as it falls around her bare paws. When I hear her, she tells me the most beautiful thing that has ever been said to me

"I love you, Alvin"

With that, I am suddenly jolted out of my memoirs by the sudden stab in my heart, followed by the years of injuries that make my body burn, the memories that send new waves of pain through me. I start screaming hysterically, clawing at my body.

The last thing I see is Jeanette staring at me shocked before she starts pulling her hair out, and begins to shriek manically too.

The final I hear is Jeanette - screaming - and the Darkness - whispering -

"Simon..."  
Then I fall victim to the darkness...

* * *

**okay, so it's easier to put my disclaimer at the end! Which is what I am doing!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, David Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, Miss Miller (Or Rebecca), or any of the other characters featured in this story! (Unless they're mine, and YOU WILL KNOW, because I WILL TELL YOU).**


	3. The Plot Thickens

**To all minors: DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE OVER THIRTEEN YEARSOF AGE**

**Chapter** **Three** - **The Plot Thickens**

* * *

_You can take everything I have,_

_You can break everything I am,_

_Like I'm made of glass,_

_Like I'm made of paper,_

_Go on and try to tear me down,_

_I will be riding from the ground,_

_Like a skyscraper._

* * *

_Skyscraper - Demi Lovato_

***Theodore's POV***

o0o

I stare out of the window, not bothering to so much as look at the extravagant feast lay out before me, I don't even smell it. I look at the couple who act as my 'Dave' and 'Miss. Miller' they are an old couple, late fifties, sixties, but I don't mind, I have food when I want it, and get all the affection I want. I even have a mini mansion, that they - meaning, Joe, and Ellie - had specially made for me, so that if I want some peace, I can just go in, and get it.

"Please excuse me." I say, and jump off the table, and head for the doors. I have lost most of my 'puppy fat' that weighed me down when I was younger. And I now have a figure that resembled Alvin's. I have shot up, so aside from my lighter fur, bet me and Alvin would be spitting images of each other, cool! I wonder what my dear Eleanor is up to now? Or her sisters, for that matter. I wonder where Alvin is, what he's doing, if he wonders about us, about his brothers anymore.

_Brothers_.

That's a word that I haven't thought, or used in... How many years? I turned sixteen Last month, so that's... Seven years. I haven't thought about my older brother in seven years. In the care home, I thought about him all the time. And I still do. But it's the brother that's NOT Alvin that I haven't thought about in the last seven years. I wonder...

I wonder about Simon. For the first time in seven years, I wonder about Simon.

As I fade from consciousness I allow my mind to ponder over whether Simon is happy right now.

* * *

**OKAY, SO IT'S SHORT, GET OVER IT.**

**okay, so it's easier to put my disclaimer at the end! Which is what I am doing!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, David Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, Miss Miller (Or Rebecca), or any of the other characters featured in this story! (Unless they're mine, and YOU WILL KNOW, because I WILL TELL YOU).**


	4. Life On The Inside

**To all minors: DON'T READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THIRTEEN YEARS OLD**

**Chapter Four - Life On The Inside**

* * *

_All in all,_

_Your no good,_

_You dont cry,_

_Like you should._

_Let it go,_

_If you could,_

_When love dies,_

_In the end._

* * *

_What Lies Beneath - Breaking Benjamin_

***GENERAL POV***

Around an hour and a half later, the male chipmunk, and the female chipette gave up in their cries, and resolved to scream silently. This decision was reached when the chipette lost her glasses, which were shortly followed by her voice. The chipmunks voice left him soon afterwards.

Both were left convulsing on the floor in their silent agony. Each being tortured by the darkness, as it tormented them with memories, and pictures of their once beloved Simon.

***Somewhere in Paris***

***ELEANOR'S POV***

I pull on my black outfit, and my jet-black trainers. Then, I tie my hair back into a pony tail, and studies myself in the compact mirror that i carry around with me at all times, mainly for checking under doors, it has a built in alarm sensor, and its starts buzzing and flashing if it detects a sensor of any sort nearby, that and its quite handy for doing up my hair.

In the first few years after I was separated from Alvin, Jeanette, and Simon, I lost most of my puppy fat, but I kept my baggy clothes. About a year after Dave had died, I was brought to this facility. It was here that i have lost what remained, and replaced it with muscle, which leaves me with a perfectly toned body, that - if I say so myself - I have grown into perfectly.

I push my civilians clothes under the dumpster, and check that they are in the ditch that I slept in last night beneath it, they are. I had travelled to there - as instructed - yesterday evening, from my H.Q, which is situated right beneath the eiffel tower.

Then, I swing myself up onto a window, and tightrope walk across a washing line that's hooked onto it, i then proceed to propel myself onto the next window, and begin walking once more on the up-hill washing lines, continue this until I finally reach the top of a skyscraper. Then, I sit down, and watch as the sun nears the horizon.

When it's a good twenty minutes before the sun is set to disappear, I pick myself up, grab my hidden back-pack I had planted here yesterday, and pull out a (miniature) rappel-gun, and begin to shoot it across the rooftops, following it all the while.

When I reach the edge of the city, I head north, and eventually reach a place called 'Stains' in it, I find some shelter in an old barn, I find an unnoticeable section at the back of it, and let Base know where I am, I then give in to the weariness that has been plaguing my muscles and drift off.

* * *

**Again. Look its short. And Im sorry. But I had MASSIVE writers block. :/**

**okay, so it's easier to put my disclaimer at the end! Which is what I am doing!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, David Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, Miss Miller (Or Rebecca), or any of the other characters featured in this story! (Unless they're mine, and YOU WILL KNOW, because I WILL TELL YOU).**


	5. Looks Are Deceiving

**To all minors: DON'T READ IF YOUR UNDER THIRTEEN!**

**Chapter Five - Looks Are Deceiving**

* * *

**Close your eyes,**

**So many days go by,**

**Easy to find what's wrong,**

**Harder to find what's right.  
**

* * *

_Dance with the Devil - Breaking Brnjamin_

***ELEANOR'S POV***

(Later the next day)

I pull myself up, and stretch. I carefully look out of the old barn that I took refuge in last night. Sunset, perfect.

I go back in, and pull out my rucksack, then I take out a flask of 'life juice' as I call it, I couldn't be bothered to go with the fifty-thousand-word-long-very-scientific-words name, so I stuck with life juice instead. Basically, its a special drink that acts as a three-course meal, leaving you full, but not bloated, rather handy, for missions like the one I'm on at the moment.

Once I have had my fill, I get going again, pulling my back pack over my head, I know that I only have about a half mile walk into the country to get to my location. The Smith family home.

About 200 metres away, I pull off my high-tech gear, and pull on a set of scruffy peasant's clothes, then, I take off my trainers, and socks, pull my hair out of its pony tail. I ruffle it up a bit, and add a few leaves for effect, I now have the appearance of a nine-year-old - innocent. All that's left is my back-pack, which I quickly empty, and turn inside out. It now resembles a worn teddy bear, I place my clothes in a vacuum bag, and let all the air out of it, then place it in a hidden compartment in the bear's left arm. In its right arm, I put my GPS, my bluetooth, my wristwatch, my lock-picking tools, and my smoke bombs.

Then, I pull on my best innocent face, and begin traversing the path up to the mansion.

When I reach the top, I knock on the door, and pull on my best Theodore face. Its opened by what appears to be an angel lady, I ask in a quiet voice, making it sound like I'm a seven year-old

"Je m'appelle Charlotte, et je suis sans abri, on m'a dit que vous êtes un gentil, belle dame, avec des normes élevées. Et je suis venu chercher une maison." I smile inwardly at my French, which doesnt seem to understand, then I say, in a heavily accented voice

" I am Charlotte, I no live... anywhere? Word? I was told zat you are a good lady, mdemoselle Smith, and I hope to live here?"

I pull on a face of false concentration, and act pleased with myself when I finish, she seems to buy it, because she says, "qui vous a dit où je vis? ... Ce n'est pas grave, tu peux rester ici pour la nuit, suivez-moi, vous allez être de six heures précises, et vous transformer en vêtements propres avant le petit déjeuner, sinon ... eh bien, vous ne voulez pas savoir. Vous devez faire moins de bruit, mon autre fils adopté tente d'étudier."

I nod my head and get lead into the house, thinking over what she just said to me: 'who told you where I live?... It doesn't matter, you can stay here for the night, follow me, you will be up by six AM sharp, and you will change into fresh clothes before breakfast, otherwise... well, you don't want to know. You must keep the noise down, my other adopted son is trying to study.'

Suddenly, I feel the urge to find out more. To find out who lives with this...Witch. I remember reading up on her file before I left, it said that Mary Smith has been in jail on several occasions before, all for child abuse, except one, which was for murder, her husband, John Smith has been involved in all of them.

"Excusez-moi, mademoiselle, mais qu'est-ce que vous dites le nom de votre fils et l'âge était?"

"I didn't." I act confused, so that she will say it again in French, which is my second language, why wont she tell me the name or age of her adopted son?

She sighs, and says it again in French. I nod my head in false understanding.

Suddenly, she stops, and stands aside, pulls out a key, and says to me in French, "This is your room, don't leave it until six am, and remember to keep the noise down." She pauses, and then says " There is a shower in the rear right of the room, which you will use before going to bed. I will have my son bring up some clothes for you, you look like you will fit in some of his old stuff." Then, I take a step towards the door, she suddenly takes a step in front of me, and says (again, in French)

"I will not have a complete stranger staying in my house child, what, pray tell, is your full name and age?" She looks into my eyes as I reply

"Mon nom complet est Charlotte Johnson, mademoiselle, et mon âge est mais neuf"

She seem happy that I am called Charlotte Johnson, and that I'm nine years old, because she steps aside, and allows me to pass. Then, she leaves with a curt nod, gliding down the hallway, with all the elegance of a child trying to walk up a vertical sand dune. None at all.

I immediately close the door, and head over to the shower.

Once I have finished, I wrap a towel around me, and look around the room, not noticing any clothes, so I pull on my high-tech set, and watch the door, waiting for any sign of Smith's son coming, or even the Smiths themselves.

Eventually, I lie back on the bed, and stare up at the ceiling, when suddenly, the door opens, which shocks me, because I would have heard it, it only opens a fraction though, then it closes again, and is knocked on, I head over to the door, and poke my out.

But see only empty corridors.

***AROUND MIDNIGHT THAT NIGHT***

I pull on my backpack, which now contains several priceless paintings, as well, as some cool gadgets/inventions that I liked the look of, and the Smith's credit cards, and details.

I stop in the kitchen to get a glass of milk, I grab a glass, and open the refrigerator, but only enough so that I can squeeze in and grab the milk, because if I opened it fully, it would illuminate the whole kitchen. Suddenly, I feel a pair of eyes on me, okay, this is creepy, how come I didn't hear them creep up on me? I think, then a connection forms in my mind, I didn't hear the Smith's son when he dropped off my clothes, earlier, and I didn't hear this person either. Then I wonder if it was one of the Smiths, I have yet to meet, Mr. Smith, and what if his missus was just pulling my leg when she walked away, clumsy as anything? _'I'd be busted that's what._' I think, I turn, slowly, and see the Person who has crept up on me, which regretfully, doesn't work, because of the darkness surrounding us now that I have closed the fridge, but the figure seems to have recognised me.

I can just make out its silhouette, tall and lean, definitely male. My train of thought is interrupted by it speaking to me, in a quiet voice, it sounds hopeful, remorseful, and even slightly scared

"E-Eleanor?"

My eyes widen, my mouth hangs open, that voice. I fall back against the fridge, and my breathing starts shaking, coming unevenly, I try desperately to get it under control as I say

"S-S-Simon?"

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, David Seville, Rebecca Miller (Miss Miller's first name!), or any other character in this story that doesn't appear on my profile page under 'My OC's or with a disclaimer saying I own it next to it in an authors note. These characters belong to Ross Bagdasarian Jr.**

**:) REVEIW if you want more! REVEIW if you don't! If you don't give a monkeys, the. REVEIW anyway!**


	6. A Life Of Pain - use of mature themes

**Okay! Erm... Well, I haven't really got anything to say, so... Yeah! That's about it...**

**Oh, there are some mature themes used in this context.**

**Anyway...**

**To all minors: DONT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 13 YEARS OF AGE**

**Chapter Six - A Life Of Pain**

* * *

_You shout it loud, but I can't hear a word you say,_

_I'm talking loud, not saying much,_

_I'm criticised, But all your bullets ricochet_

_You shoot me down, but I get up._

* * *

**Titanium - David Guetta & Demi Lovato**

***BRITTANY'S POV**

I feel a non-stop pain as I am bounced upon by another stranger. When he finally stops, he takes the gag off my mouth, the blindfold off My face, and the handcuffs that secured my wrists to the head post, and the handcuffs, that secured each of my ankles to a different post a the end of the bed, which was painful enough.

When he finishes this, he pushes a Twenty-dollar bill into my hands, and leaves the room without so much as a backwards glance. Then, I head over to my bed, and pull out a steel puzzle box, after opening it, I place the money inside, and pull out a photo taken a week before Dave died. Or should I say, a week before Dave was murdered.

His fault. All his fault...

No, I'm stronger than that. I'm not going to keep doing this. I am somewhere in Sydney, - I think - and all I need is to get a bit more money, and I will be able to afford a one-way ticket to Japan, or wherever is nearest to here but still in the direction of my family. I can then make money using my trade as a singer, or get adopted, and make my way back to the USA. Where I will hopefully find Alvin. But for now, I guess I'm stuck with being a prostitute. I just have to work out a way to escape, and I will be gone. Before they can say "we have found another man, Brittany!" and cause me even more pain.

I go to Mary, like I have to every time I am used, and I request a shower token, so that l can clean myself. As I go by, I notice the clock on the wall says its almost nine PM, _brilliant(!)_ nine PM on a Friday night normally means that dozens of men will line up to have a go at us, and there's nothing we can do about it, which is the way they like it. They like doing that to us when we can't fight back, but when we do, we will fight back twice as hard. We will rise up, and bring them down. They rose high, they will fall lower then ever before, and we will be free girls once more.

Literally the moment I step out my shower, I am dragged (literally) down to the main office area, like I am every night, and my hands are put into metal cuffs above my head, my feet put into metal cuffs on the floor. They do this to all of us, there's Janice (ja-niece), Tiffany (she's a whore, she actually enjoys being here), Millie, and Freya. All of whom are older than me, by like, six years, seven years.

Then there's Carri, Summer, and Jasmine, who are only a bit older then me, a couple of months, or years, but they have been doing this since the age of... Well, that's just it, they can't remember ever not being here. Which I find attrocious, come on, they are just gone seventeen, and they have been stuck here their whole, miserable lives? Shocking, really...

And then there's little Ella.

She's nearly ten, she's small, skinny, and - what surprised me most - she's a chipmunk. Like me, she had to go through all the bullying, but unlike me, she was able to face it alone. I had my sisters, and Alvin, she had her wits, and her heart. Which is truly terrible, she only came here a couple of months back, and her cries are the ones that ring the loudest throughout this building, dive deepest into our hearts, and above all, make us hate life the most.

_One day -_

_Ping!_ That's the signal to get ready, like we can much else, we're all chained up in the same manner. Men just walk on, and look at us, then decide who they want to go with. I have discovered that with men, if you glare at them, then they normally won't go for you.

Unfortunately, in this instance, I am wrong.

The man chooses me, and I wonder why snake eyes didn't work. The moment he's alone in the room with me, a gag is in my mouth, my hands and legs are restrained, and he's bouncing on me like the drunken fool he is.

Oh. If only Alvin were here, maybe them I wouldn't hate life as I do, maybe then will I find the courage to break free, maybe he will sweep me off my feet and carry me off into the sunset, maybe...

* * *

**okay, so it's easier to put my disclaimer at the end! Which is what I am doing!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, David Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, Miss Miller (Or Rebecca), or any of the other characters featured in this story! (Unless they're mine, and YOU WILL KNOW, because I WILL TELL YOU).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, David Seville, Rebecca Miller (Miss Miller's first name!), or any other character in this story that doesn't appear on my profile page under 'My OC's or with a disclaimer saying I own it next to it in an authors note. These characters belong to Ross Bagdasarian Jr.**

**Did I write the disclaimer on TWICE there? Oh well... That's what happens when you stop writing, and don't read your work through properly, I suppose...**


	7. When The Past Haunts You

**To all minors : please refrain from reading this, if you are under thirteen years of age.**

* * *

_Love is the red, _

_The rose on your coffin door,_

_What's life like,_

_Bleeding on the floor?_

_**-Thank You For The Venom**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven - When The Past Haunts You**

***Simon's POV***  
(From earlier that day, around 10AM, on the same day we caught up with Elli)

I lie on my bed, studying, as usual. That's all I ever do, study. Mr. And Mrs. Smith want me smart so that I will help them increase their status in the town.

One day.

One day, I am going to snap, clean in half, and then, then...

My 'parents' will wish they had adopted someone else.

I jump off my bed, scurry over to the door I already know is locked, and press my ear against the door.

Nothing. Good.

With that, I scurry over to my bed, lift up the covers, and unzip the side of my hollow mattress, this, my parents don't know about.

I am never supposed to be creative, I am around studying, and work, but never other than that. Which is why I keep this book hidden.

My journal.

Okay, so I actually write about what I want to happen in it. Things I can imagine happening to me, (but not necessary from my point of view, I sometimes write like I am say a three year old, or a girl,) and things I imagine doing.

But I write in poems.

As I flick through it, I see the one about me winning the Nobel Peace Prize, the ones about me becoming a famous author, astronomer, physician, scientist, inventor, or even a world-wide known chess player.

As I find the first blank page, I allow my mind to wander, what would happen if I was younger, and all I remembered was the Smiths as my parents? Or even, Mr. Smith, seeing as he is the crueler of the pair, Mrs. Smith just follows his lead, even though when it comes to visitors, she usually takes over, whilst I am locked in my room. I discovered that my room actually has two doors, the one I can see. And the one on the other side of it.  
On the door that is visible to me, there is a simple keyhole, just below the metal door knob.

I know, however, that there is more to it than that.

When I am allowed out, (mealtimes, to go to the library, and to do the housework) I see that there are locks which padlock my door to the one in front, without it showing visibly, slide-in locks, key locks, electrical locks, the works. I can't even begin to count the locks on my door, (which, may I mention, has been reinforced), so I am stuck here for now.

As I do, I feel the familiar sensation of not knowing what I am writing, just writing it down.

Once I finish, I read through what I have written.

_As I walk through the countryside,_  
_I turn around and see,_  
_A small young girl, in pure white lace_  
_Staring back at me._

_She held a small white flower,_  
_She grasped it in her hand,_  
_She gazed at me as if she,_  
_Was from a different land._

_I walked back up towards her,_  
_Lonely, she did seem,_  
_She watched me walk up to her._  
_On her back the sun did beam._

_It wasn't 'till a deeper look,_  
_Things didn't seem quite right_  
_That single sparkle in her eye,_  
_didn't seem as bright._

_Her eyes a tainted violet,_  
_enraged with jealousy._  
_Her fierce hair entwined with rage, __and even some envy._

_Her frail, young lips cracked;_  
_with a dash of broken trust._  
_Whenever she tried to smile,_  
_something deep inside her cussed._

_She gave me her white flower,_  
_And closely I did look._  
_The petals stained with crimson blood,_  
_Something deep within me shook._

_Eyelashes upon tired lids,_  
_That never saw the fun_  
_For her childhood was over,_  
_Before it had begun._

_Her white lace dress was dripping,_  
_In the same red crimson blood._  
_Only at the ends though,_  
_She'd been dipped in devils mud._

_She never spoke anything; Apart from_  
_"Please. Don't hurt me,_  
_for I am not a normal child..._  
_don't you see?"_

_I didn't quite know what to say,_  
_So I stared into her eyes._  
_A deep blue tear streamed down her face,_  
_It was as cold as ice._

_I took her lifeless hand,_  
_And walked her through the meadow._  
_And that was when I realised,_  
_she didn't have a shadow._

_She said "I'm the ghost of your inner thought,_  
_I've no life; it was short._  
_For I was broken, me,_  
_And that is why I'm what you see._

_She vanished in the summer air,_  
_With me still gripped that flower,_  
_On the petals in crimson blood_  
_something read:_

_''Don't forget me,_  
_But don't hold on,_  
_There's life for you to see,_  
_Don't let your past bewilder you,_  
_Please don't end up like me._  
_You'll survive,_  
_You'll get through,_  
_Don't let him get the best of you,_  
_For you are deep down just like me._  
_But it doesn't mean you can't be free._  
_So wave goodbye to the ghost of your past,_  
_Cause your life' will be over so very fast._  
_You were hurt just like me,_  
_I'm your shadow...don't you see?''_

_I walked back through the countryside,_  
_In the river I did see,_  
_The reflection of my deep, dark past_  
_Staring back at me_.

It brings a tear to my eye knowing how true that is. How we can't hold onto the past forever. Reading it through, I imagine my lover of old as the shadow of my past, rather than someone else. That, of course brings more tears to my eyes, more wounds in my soul, I would still be with her if I hadn't done it...

No, I can't let myself fall into depression again, it was bad enough last time.

To take my mind off these thoughts, I begin to write another. This one isn't as good, but it has a faster tempo.

_This circle,_  
_It's vicious,_  
_Never stopping,_  
_The fights,_  
_Caused by you,_  
_Are flowing,_  
_And flowing._  
_A punch,_  
_Then another,_  
_Then another,_  
_Then a punch_,  
_Again and again,_  
_Never stopping._  
_A blur now,_  
_In the shower,_  
_Water is_ _red,_  
_Just think,_  
_Just think,_  
_You're hurting my head._  
_Why?_  
_How?_  
_When?_  
_Where?_  
_I can't figure this out,_  
_How is it fair?_  
_Sherlock Holmes himself,_  
_Would be startled to find,_  
_That you seem to be fine._  
_Then you punch,_  
_You hit,_  
_You jeer,_  
_You shout,_  
_I can't figure this out._  
_I just know,_  
_We're going round and round,_  
_This vicious circle,_  
_Its skywards bound._

Woah. Deep. Yet so insanely true. I allow myself a moment to wonder what inspired me to write this, maybe the fact that I know its true? Maybe its the fact that I got beaten senseless today for trying to escape.

I don't know, all I know is, that came from somewhere deep.

Suddenly, I hear a set of footsteps coming down the hallway, towards my room. I quickly dash around, hiding my journal, and begin to make out I am studying.

I hear Mrs. Smith open a door just down the hallway, and I hear her ask someone what their name and age is, no doubt trying to work out whether or not they would like to add them to her 'collection.' I shudder at the thought.

***Flashback to about a week before***

'Sibtupid ishdiots' I think. I suddenly realise seeing as I'm alone I can think whatever I like.

I peer around the door to the Smith's bedroom, and see a huge four-poster bed, a persian rug on the floor, a bare light hanging from the ceiling, and an oak desk.

I wander into the room. On the wall, are a load of faces of people. All my age, some younger than me, none any older.

Underneath each of the pictures is a name tag; _Kevin Lancaster, Eli Shmit, Penelope Grey, Alexis Jefreys_, the list is endless, it goes from the very top of the wall, and continues down. I am at the very bottom.

Next to all of the pictures but mine is a red arrow, pointing to another picture. On Kevin's it says: _December 12th 1988 - February 3rd 1989, aged 17._

Its like that for every picture. Date of adoption, a later date, their age.

Their age when? _Then? Now?_

Its not until I look across at the photographs that the red arrows lead to, that my questions are answered.

_Kevin Lancaster, Aged 17, adopted by Mr. And Mrs. Smith on December 12th 1988, was killed on February 3rd 1989._

The photo is disgusting.

It has Kevin. He is hanging upside down, and has stab wounds all over his chest, with an 'a' cut into his forehead.

Then I look down at Eli's it has him, next to a skyscraper, with a 'b' cut into his head, poor bastard, I bet they pushed him off of it.

Penelope is pictured in a dumpster, hands and feet tied. There is a 'c' etched into her left breast, which has been held up with a skimpy black dress.

Alexis' picture is taken from underwater, it has her floating, with her feet parallel to the surface of the water. Her hands and feet are tied, and she is wearing the same red dress as Penelope was. She has a 'd' cut into her left breast.

I can't help but wonder why she is floating in such an odd position. Then I take a closer look.

And immediately wish I hadn't.

There is a fishing line leading down to somewhere bellow the bottom of the picture, which I know will be tied to something out of shot. It leads up to her mouth, where you can see a fish-hook, both of its pointed ends protruding from her top, and lower. lip. Poor girl.

I see the edge of the picture is peeling, so I turn it over, on the back in scrawny handwriting that I know belongs to Mr. Smith which reads

_'she loved fishing, how ironic she had to die like this'_. I take a moment to retch.

As it goes on, it just gets worse. There's a boy who has been cut open with a scalpel all over, and has had his eyes gouged out, probably before he died. The letter 'l' on his forehead.

There is a girl who is hanging from a power line, you can see lightning as it strikes the power line, to which she is cuffed. Her hair is sizzled, again, right breast, letter 'p'.

There is a boy with some dynamite strapped to his chest, The letter 'z' on his forehead.

Since z is the last letter of the alphabet, after that, they convert to their initials. I glance at the photo of me.

Then I look at the one above.

Its of a girl. She has long, black braided hair, like Jeanette's was the last time I saw her, she had died it black a month after 'it' happened, and had braided it for the funeral, it hung low at her waist.

This girl is stark naked, but that doesn't really embarrass me much, because I know all about the functions of both the male and female anatomy. She hangs from a tree by her braid, which has been nailed half a metre above her head. I wouldn't have seen how she died unless I look. There is a needle hanging out from her neck. On her right breast is engraved 'J.M' my heart pounds.

My eyes go over to her face, she's a chipette.

My eyes go over to the name.

_'Jeanette Miller, 14 18 Dec, 2006 - 14 February 2007.'_

On the back of it reads.

_'She always loved playing with science, and nature so she died with a chemical in her blood, and bark at her skin.'_

My eyes widen.

I sink back down, and fall off the counter.

* * *

***END FLASHBACK***

They found me, staring up at the photo two hours later, they opened the door to the room and grabbed me, they took me down to the basement and beat me black and blue.

But I deserved it.

I killed Dave.

I killed Jeanette.

Its my fault their dead.

I throw my book at the other side of the room, bury my face in my pillow, and weep.

* * *

Okay! So, look, I know it's a bit unpleasant. But, who cares? I'm twelve and I wrote it. *Goes back and reads it* wait a second *starts shuddering* I wrote that?! Lovely...

Anyway! Disclaimer time!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, David Seville, Rebecca Miller (Miss Miller's first name!), or any other character in this story that doesn't appear on my profile page under 'My OC's or with a disclaimer saying I own it next to it in an authors note. These characters belong to Ross Bagdasarian Jr.**


	8. A Hope Of Escape

**Okay! So I'm going to apologize now, for my late update, I have just had SO MUCH HOMEWORK, it's not true! When I finally get some spare time, I use it to check on my social life, and then I get onto my Fan fiction site, I was soooo busy trying to finish my Does Anybody Hear Her? Story, that I haven't updated any of my others! *SMILES GUILTILY***

**Anyway! This chapter may contain some violence.**

**No it won't! I Will contain violence ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, David Seville, Rebecca Miller (Miss Miller's first name! As you should know by now!), or any other character in this story that doesn't appear on my profile page under 'My OC's or with a disclaimer saying I own it next to it in an authors note. These characters belong to Ross Bagdasarian Jr.**

**In reply to Sharky42: thats a mystery you will have to wait and find out...**

**Anyway!**

**Lets get on with the story, shall we?**

Chapter Eight - A Chance To Escape

* * *

_And if you have to leave,_  
_I wish that you would just leave,_  
_Because your presence still lingers here,_  
_And it won't leave me alone._

The life you left behind - evanescence

* * *

*Brittany's POV*

As I emerge from the cheap corner shop, I check to make sure that none of the sisters are watching, and take the change out of the woven basket I have on my shoulder, and I take a glance at the market.

Its the average black market really. Not like they describe it in children's story books, it's only on after darkness, or during the twilight zone. Which the day is just hitting now. I take a moment to look at the sky, and only see the normal black clouds that hang over the sky all day, teasing us. They never emit any rain, just hang over us like a ... Well, like a dark cloud really. I miss the view we had when we lived with Miss Miller, and then Dave when she got moved away. It was the Governments fault really, but that's all we were told.

The view from my house with the chipmunks was... Well, I don't know the words Jeanette would use to describe it. Radiant? Beautiful? That's about as far as I go. Anyway, when the sun hit the horizon, stripes of light were sent flying over the hills. I know we lived in LA, but technically, we also lived in the countryside, because we were on the edge of what was called 'the boundary line' between us, and the country kids.

Now though, I don't see any sun. Not any more.

It never shines down, golden, light, the way it used to. Or maybe it does, but because I am so depressed I don't see it?

"Watch it!" Accuses a boy as I accidentally walk into him. He turns towards me, and lifts up his red news-boy cap.

I get but a glance at his face, but it's enough.

I see his almond eyes.

His messy brown hair.

_No...what the hell is he doing here?!_

"Alvin?"

* * *

***BACK IN PARIS***  
**(Because of the time zone, it's midnight in Paris,**  
**approx)**

As I squint through my glasses, and the darkness, I see the silhouette of someone that I thought I would never see again.

"E-Eleanor?" I whisper barely audibly.

"S-Simon?" she whispers back, just as mortified as I am.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, suddenly cautious.

"How would I know? Plus, my name is Charlotte rather than Eleanor. And, why would you call me that?" she asks me, without giving anything away.

"Oh dear, I guess I will just have to tell Theo it wasn't you after all. Shame. He has enough to worry about as it is. What with all of the murders going on in his family, I wouldn't be surprised if Jeanette was next, or Brittany." I whisper, as if to myself.

"What do you mean? What's happened to Teddy, you'd better not have hurt him!" she says in a voice that scares the life out of me.

"Look, you need to go." I whisper.

"No, _you_ need to go Simon." She replies to me.

"Well, if your name is Charlotte, how come you know my name? _Eleanor?"_ I accuse.

"Okay! So it's me! Just shut up! You'll kill my cover!" she practically shouts.

"Keep yelling like that, my parents will wake up, and _kill_ me!" I whisper back, sharply.

"That is exactly _why_ you need to go." she replies firmly.

"They will find me and hunt me down, _then_ they'll kill me If I do that." I whisper back, acting happy about the whole ordeal, rather sarcastically.

"Simon, I know, even though I haven't seen you in seven years, _and_ in this light, that you are lying to me. You know about the wall. With the photos."

She pauses, then whispers darkly.

"You saw what happened to Jeanette."

My heart struts racing, as she finishes.

"Did you not see the look of pain on Jeanette's face in the photo? The pained expression on Alvin's?"

My heart stops beating entirely.

"What happened to Alvin?" I manage to squeak out.

"You don't know?" Eleanor asks quietly.

"No." I regret saying it, the moment I do so, and I want to take the word back, but it's too late for any of that now.

"Eighteenth of December, 2006 to the fifteenth of February, 2007." She says in a monotone whisper.

"What? No, that's Jeanette, and its the fourteenth." again, I want to take the words back the moment I have said them, but it's still too late.

"No, that's Jeanette _and_ Alvin."

"You mean to say...?"

"Yes, they were both adopted at the same day, same time in fact. They stayed together, and stayed strong."

"Then, where was Alvin's photo?"

"Underneath Jeanette's"

"No, it wasn't, I looked to see if what actually Jeanette and I turned it over, there wasn't anything on Alvin." I reply.

"There was a secret pocket."

"Oh no.." I turn towards the stairs.

So does Eleanor.

"Look, here is the photo, now, follow me!" Whispers Eleanor sharply.

I take a look at the back first.

'Alvin loved driving. Its such a shame that his car lost control and went flying of a cliff - Game over.' I read.

Then, I look at the picture.

Its a new style, different to all of the others. There are four photos on the page.

In the first photo, there is A picture of Mary and John Smith holding a remote control. And they are pushing the lever left, and the wheels of the toy car going left.

The second photo has a picture of Alvin, he is looking scared as hell. His paws are tied behind him, with one paw going through the bar to the headrest, the other going around it, so that he wouldn't be able to slip his paws over the headrest to free himself. He looks pretty beaten up, a slit lip, bloody nose, black eye, I wince just looking at it.

Seeing as his paws are tied behind him, and kind of over his head, - which I know from experience is painful enough, - he is leaning forward.

In the third photo, they have finished tying him up, and when before he was leaning forward, he is now with his head against the headrest, which I can only imagine must hurt like hell.  
I take a closer look to reveal that no, he isn't leaning against the headrest, he's pushing himself up against it. Because, now I notice it, there are several fine, blue pieces of string wrapped around his throat.

_Ouch_.

Just as I am about to move on to the next photo, I See something put on the steering wheel. I squint at it in the low light, but I can see it's a picture of Brittany and him. I was taking the photo, when Jeanette tripped, and knocked me. It slightly distorted Alvin's face, but it's still obvious that it's him in the photo.

I look back to Alvin's face.

I see something there I may never have seen before.

Tears.

He didn't cry at the funeral, for our sake's. And I can't recall him crying before that.

_Woah_.

My eyes drift to the final photo.

Its taken from the edge of a cliff, at the very bottom, there is a wreckage of a toy car, the same one that Alvin was tied up in.

_Oh Alvin. You lovesick fool. You did love her, didn't you?_

"Simon! Now!" says Eleanor from behind me.

Suddenly, it's like someone has flipped a switch, and I can see for the first time. I see what needs to be done.

We need to go.

But _now?_

"Huh? W-What?" I ask lazily.

"Shut up! Listen!" says Eleanor darkly.

I shut up for a second.

_Dammit._

I look to Eleanor for our next move.

She grabs my hand, and drags me towards the door.

"No, wait! " I stop dead in my tracks, causing Eleanor to do the same. She turns back and glares at me.

"What the hell?" she whispers sharply.

"Look." I say pointing to a small hexagon on the wall about a meter in front of Eleanor. Maybe a bit less, it gives out a high-pitched beep. Which makes me and Eleanor flinch.

"Okay, well? What is it?" she asks me.

I sigh, And pull up the Sleeves of my jumper. I hold my right wrist out to Eleanor.

On it, is a big burn mark.

"Yeah, so? I get it, ouch. But _why_ have we stopped?" asks Eleanor impatiently as she grabs my hand, and tries to pull me towards the door.

Again, I don't let her.

"What. Is. Your. Problem?!" she hardly refrains from yelling.

My eyes widen at how loud she says this.

I sigh, then say.

"Look, my wrist wasn't burned from an average household accident."

I can see Eleanor wants nothing more than for me to shut up, and walk through the door with her.

"Eleanor, I can't-"

My ears twitch as they pick up, a gentle sound. So gentle, that I'm not sure I even heard it. But, Eleanor apparently did, which leads me to believe that I must have heard it too.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

'Your parents?' mouths Eleanor at me. I nod my head sadly.

"Okay, so for whatever reason, we can't go out the door, agreed?" She barely whispers.

I nod my head.

She takes my hand, and drags me into the lounge. I have never been in here before, so I don't know if any extra security measures has been taken to protect it.

_Thud. Thud. Thud_

I glance around taking in my surroundings with a sweep of my eyes.  
Computers, laptops, guns, grenades, motion sensors ready to be activated, trackers, the works.

I gulp, and next to me, so does Eleanor.

_**Thud**_. (Thud). **_Thud_**. (Thud). _**Thud**_. (Thud).

Closer now, two sets of footsteps, both heading for the stairs.

'What do we do?' I mouth at Eleanor.

She shrugs her shoulders

'It's your house!'

I shrug my shoulders, and hold out my hands.

**_Thud._**(Thud). **_Thud_**. (Thud). **_Thud_**. (Thud).

The footsteps are halfway down the stairs.

'Hide?' I suggest lamely.

She shakes her head.

"Run."

* * *

***NORMAL POV***

The male and female chipmunk ran through the house, silent as cats.

Finally, they reached a large room.

"Ladies first?" asked the taller of the chipmunks.

"Just get on with it." said the shorter chipette.

Simon entered the room.

He was closely followed by Eleanor.

The chipette spotted their route of escape first, it was a small window above one of the many plush, red velvet couches. It was lined with Midnight blue velvet, and laden with royal purple plush cushions. Like all of the couches in the room.

Eleanor took a step over, towards the window.

Simon looked cautiously around the room, before following her.

They stood on the arm of the couch, which was backed up against the wall, just under the minuscule window.

"Age before beauty?" asked Eleanor sarcastically.

"Well-"

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

The footsteps were heading into the pantry, which was only two doors down from where they were hiding, also, Mrs. Smith could be heard cursing things that... Well, would reduce a grown man to tears.

"Okay, look, I can push you and your back-pack through first. Then, I can climb out, got it?" said the male chipmunk calmly.

"I know, but, are you sure you can get up there?" asked the worried chipette uncertainly.

**Thump! **_Squeak! _**Thump****_! _**_Squeak_! **Thump**! _Squeak_!

"No time like the present." Stated the nervous chipmunk as he latched his paws together and gave the chipette a boost onto the window sill.

Then, he threw up her back-pack.

"Err... Simon. I'm going to need another boost."

**Thud! Thud! Thud!**

The footsteps were in the room next to them, and they sounded like they were turning the place upside-down.

Simon swung himself up onto the window ledge.

Just as he pulled himself up, the extra swing hit him, and he fell forwards. Only to be caught by Eleanor.

"Watch it!" She whispered harshly.

"Okay. So? Now what do we do?" Asked the blue-clad chipmunk carefully.

The Chipette sighed. Pulling the chipmunk across the dusty ledge, which was about a metre long, though only around six inches wide.

The chipmunk took a moment to polish his glasses on his shirt, relying completely on Eleanor's hand for guidance.

When they reached the back, Eleanor came to a sudden stop, causing Simon to almost trip over her.

**Thump! Thump! Thump!**

The footsteps were right outside the door, any moment now, the door would be opened, and the two chipmunks would be seen.

Looking up, both saw what appeared to be a chimney. But was certainly a sharp incline. It was flat on either side, and looked slick, and smooth.

As if in unspoken agreement, they both took another glance upwards, gesturing with their eyes to a cranny on either side of the wall, about half a meter above their heads. They heard a sharp '_clatter_' you hear when something metal is dropped on wood, coming from outside the door.

But the Chipmunk and chipette looked upwards, then to each other, then to the door.

And leapt onto the platform.

'_**BANG!'**_ The door crashed open, as John and Mary entered the room. Very soon, tables were upside-down, couches with cushions pulled off, and they even pulled down the blood-red velvet curtains.

Simon grabbed hold of the ledge, and pulled himself upright, straightening his glasses in the progress. Just as he heard a '_crash_!' From a lamp being broken, he turned to look at Eleanor.

She did the same.

With a nod of his head, they both turned away from each other, and the drop that wouldn't be fatal in itself, but would be after what they found at the bottom.

Then, the both leaned backwards.

Linking their arms together, Simon and Eleanor managed to walk up the side of the wall. This was successful until they came to another ledge. On which, they both parted.

Once again facing each other, Eleanor whispered

"Next time, I need to find another way to carry the back-pack."

"Yes, I agree entirely." Muttered Simon.

"Wait! What's wrong with your tail?!" Exclaimed Eleanor, pointing at Simon's limp tail.

"Ah... Well... I don't really know. Its just been like that for about a week now." Simon squeaked out nervously.

"Oh, you poor thing." Sympathized Eleanor.

"I know. Wait! I have it! I can't feel my tail, yes? So, I could tie it around one of the straps to the bag- bear, and we could keep carrying it up the way we have been befo-" at that moment, both the chipmunk and chipette started screaming.

Simon held his hands over his ears, and curled up into a ball. Whilst Eleanor started trying to scramble up the side of the wall, both screaming their heads off because of the high-pitched sound that was deafening them, which emanated from a small glowing hexagon neither of them had noticed above them.

Below them, Mr. And Mrs. Smith had heard them screaming. They could hear a very faint high-pitched sound which they knew was deafening the chipmunks above them. Mary looked at John, and pulled out a metal canister, and placed it underneath the incline in which they were hidden.

Taking a step back, they pulled on gas masks, and took off the lid, releasing a green gas up the incline.

Simon's vision started to go fuzzy. As he breathed in some of the foul gas. He vaguely saw Eleanor fighting against it. 'It' being two things: the gas that contaminated the air, and gravity, which was pulling her down towards the Smith's.

Simon (who was still curled up in a ball) couldn't see anything after that. Not his 'parents' hands trying to reach up and pull him down. Not the loose part in the wall that concealed a secret room, big enough for several adult males, (humans, not chipmunks) to fit in quite comfortably. He didn't notice the light that would mean his freedom just a few meters above him.

What he did notice however, was the desperate, pleading look that cried for help that was in Eleanor's eyes, as she continued sliding downwards towards what, finally, would probably release her from this wretched thing she called 'life.'

* * *

**Yay!, I finished the chapter! I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors, it's like 2AM *Checks clock* no, it's 2:56 actually.**  
**Also, I'm not too happy with the ending, but I have spent a little over a week on this chapter alone now, so I'm moving on.**

**DON'T FORGET: TAKE MY POLL!**


	9. A Chance To Escape

**My apologies, but I have an AWFUL writers block, so I kept putting off updating this!**  
**Sorry!**

******Disclaimer: I don't own Alvin Seville, Simon Seville, Theodore Seville, Brittany Miller, Jeanette Miller, Eleanor Miller, David Seville, Rebecca Miller (Miss Miller's first name!), or any other character in this story that doesn't appear on my profile page under 'My OC's or with a disclaimer saying I own it next to it in an authors note. These characters belong to Ross Bagdasarian Jr.**

* * *

_I'm a survivor, I'm not gonna give up,_

_I'm not gonna stop, I'm gonna work harder,_

_I'm a survivor, I'm gonna make it,_

_I will survive, Keep on survivin'._

'I'm a survivor' By Destinies Child

* * *

**Chapter Whatever, one second *goes back to last chapter***

**Chapter Nine - A Hope Of Escape**

The male and female chipmunks collapsed on their respective beds as their day had worn them out.

First, they had to go around and start begging for money, which used up most of their morning, then, Alvin insisted he had to be somewhere, whilst Jeanette was left to spend what little they had collected on buying some cheap - but sturdy - shoes for herself and Alvin, an early christmas present as she liked to think of it. Then, she bumped into a 'shiny' person.

A 'shiny' person, in case you didn't know, is someone who is well-dressed, with shiny shoes, smart clothes, a scrupulous posture and a face that's always pointed upwards, and never looks down. These were both the easiest and hardest people to get money out of. Some took pity and gave them a generous donation, whilst others looked at them in disgust and stalked away.

Jeanette pulled herself to her feet, and carefully approached the man. He wore a black tuxedo, with an almost fluorescent white shirt, and ironed trousers which were exactly the right length so you could see the sparkle on the black shoes he wore.

"Er, excuse me sir, but, a penny for your thoughts?" Asked Jeanette hopefully. This expression was taken to mean 'I'll listen to whatever you want to say, for some money'. The man, even though he was a well-bred man, with a back straighter than the edge of a ruler, he bent down and offered his hand for Jeanette to step onto, which she did hesitantly but thankfully. For the shoes she had bought for herself and Alvin were the soles of normal shoes, which she would have to cut down to size, and she was left with the thread-bare remnants of what her old shoes were, which barely hung to her feet.

He brought her up to eye-level, and stood up straight, examining what she was wearing and what she looked like all the while. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he almost dropped Jeanette in shock, he spoke with the voice of a young human, obviously not much older than a thirteen-year-old.

"Y-you talked!" He exclaimed with wide eyes as he instinctively brought his hands up.

Jeanette scrambled to keep a hold on them, but failed, and was thrown against a nearby wall, hitting it with an audible gasp, and a 'thud!' Upon seeing this, the 'shiny' boy/man picked her up, asked her if she was alright.

"*cough, cough* I 'l be fine, you'd be surprised how often that happens." murmured Jeanette quietly.

"What? The shock on people's faces when they realise you can talk?" He looked at her for a second, then said "Oh!" Smacking his forehead in frustration "Where _are _my manners today? My name is Cash, short for Cashinova. Really, dont ask, my parents thought of it as a joke. Your name is...?"

Jeanette smiled to herself.

"I'm Jeanette, or you can call me Jean. Do you want the answer to your question?"

"Oh, yes, if you would."

Jeanette raised her eyebrow (well, the fur on her face that counts as her eyebrow anyway, which Cash found quite amusing) " Both actually. The people I ask for money from don't generally notice, and it's very easy to get thrown against the wall when you're only seven and a half inches tall. Mind you, it's also quite easy to make enemies when you used to be in one of the most famous bands in all of time." She stated plainly.

"... Oh! I know you! You know, I _swear_ it was Alvin that... Doesn't matter."

"Anywho, back to _my_ question, A penny for your thoughts? I'm a very good listener you know." She said hopefully.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have any spare change on me at the moment, I've just done Miss Wilson's weekly shop." Jeanette's heart dropped.

"But, I might be able to offer you a job, hop on" He said, offering his hand down for Jeanette, who then proceeded to climb up on his shoulder for the duration of the ride.

* * *

Alvin meanwhile was sitting upon a plush cushion in Ms. Wilson's mansion of a house, the elderly woman had been alternating between talking really quickly and so very slowly, its like time had stopped. But Alvin sat politely and listened to what she had to say.

_"..._ of course, I might be able to offer you a position as a skullery-maid dearie, or a cleaner..." She continued drearily, Alvin didn't care though, even though this woman thought he was a girl, she was offering him a job.

"I don't mean to interrupt you Mother dear, but this is my appointment, your looking for the chipmunk in the next room, you know? The one Cash brought in? She's in the next room, Mother Dear."

Ms. Wilson rose to her feet, and walked out the room, muttering something about the color purple whilst doing so. Miss. Wilson came over and sat in the place her Mother was just sitting, then, she proceeded to take off the white scarf that was wrapped around her head, and placed it on the arm-rest of the chair she was sitting on. Whilst her fingers of her right hand caressed the silk, her left hand dived into a pocket of the Indian-style garment she was wearing, and emerged with an old Nokia phone.

"I don't normally take my Mother's old phone, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and besides, I want to prove something to you... Alvin." She said it shyly, and it was then that Alvin realised she couldnt have been any older than fourteen.

Through the thin lace that covered her face, Alvin could see her emerald green eyes lock onto his almond ones.

The recording started, it was scratchy, and sounded like age, but it was crystal clear in Alvin's ears, as he relived every memory associated with them.

* * *

Simon came up first "Claire is Dave's mate." Then he was purring like a cat.

Then, Alvin was up "Dave just needs a little help from the looooove doctor!" Then, there was Theodore "And, his assistant."

Then, there was just Alvin again.

"Well, Helloooo Clarina." Then there was Claire herself, followed by Dave.

"Hi guys"

"Hope you like toaster waffles."

Then, there was Alvin again, trying to act all 'cool' for Claire.

"And, for us _classy _chipmunks, a little bit of bubbly." Then there was the sound of Alvin struggling "Stupid cork, doesn't-" There was a sudden burst of glass shattering, and the sound of Alvin laughing nervously.

Dave "I'm not gonna say it."

Simon commented on all of the 'bubbly' that poured out of the bottle onto the floor "Good grief"

Claire "Are you still not gonna say it?"

Dave "Nope."

Suddenly, there was a 'hiss' and a loud 'bang!' the type you only get from electrical explosions.

Dave "I'm gonna say it.

**_AALVIIIN!"_**

* * *

Alvin was completely shell-shocked by the time the recording had ended. How had she gotten these recordings? Who _was_ this girl sat before him? Really? What had she to do with his past? Or was this some sick joke to cause him more pain than that which he had already endured?

"Err... _Who_ are you and _how_ do you know about my past?! " Alvin let out suddenly, before he blurted out "If this is some sadistic joke you have concocted to cause me even more pain, god help me I'l-" a that moment, Alvin covered his mouth with his paw, whilst using his other paw to pat down some of the fur that had stood up on the back of his neck.

Alvin looked up at the girl, who held his gaze with her calm emerald eyes. They met Alvin's distressed ones, and seemed to calm him down a little.

"My name is Jaqualine. But no one calls me that, so you can call me Jack. I have a theory that the chipmunk in the next room is... Actually, it doesn't matter. You don't need to know. Oh yes! I was saying, I could offer you a job, get to know you a bit better. What would you say?"

Alvin was so tempted to say _'I'd say two words, the second one would be off. You already know enough about my past, and if you learned any more... Well. Let's just say I wouldn't count on seeing the light of day again...'_ but a voice in his head told him not to. That voice sounded a rather lot like his brother, Simon's. So, instead Alvin said "What would the job be as?"

Alex thought for a moment, then said "well, you could serve as a butler, or a cleaner. We would pay you well, no matter what. And the amount of dust in the top corners in some of the rooms is truly shocking, if you did it, it would soon be polished right up. What do you think?" Alvin nodded his head politely, accepting his new job. And wanting to see the look on Jeanette's face. Wanting to know more about the American girl who sat before him in Indian garments.

Wanting to know more about his past.

* * *

***Back in Paris***

When Simon returned to consciousness, the first thing he saw was a very small pathway turning off sharply at the back of the incline, well hidden from view. He pulled himself warily to his feet and began to walk...

* * *

***An underground Bunker. Approximately four miles away***

"What are we going to do about it?" asked Mr. smith to his wife who stood beside him.

"We are going to see just how well she has been trained, how gullible she is, whether the 'cocktail' will work on her or not, and HOW FREAKIN' LONG IT TAKES HER TO BLOODY MAKE UP, YOU BLATHERING IDIOT!" she half said, half screamed at her husband.

"I meant about the boy." he said lamely.

"Eh. He has been subject to our tests for long enough, don't you think? I mean, the amount of times we have hypnotised him into thinking that the gas was toxic, it's amazing really. Come on. The last time we used it on him before this happened, we had to hypnotize him into eating again. Don't you remember? He thought that he wouldn't be able to stomach anything, because he brought everything up the first time he tried. Honestly, for someone of his intelligence to be hypnotised at the sound of this song" she whipped out rear phone and put on 'Diamond Dolls' by the Chipettes. "Really? It's a terrible song, and I never really liked the singers, but it worked. So ... that's just the idea."

Eleanor, meanwhile was lying about two metres in front of them, in the glass coffin they had put her in, had heard everything, and although she had no idea what the 'cocktail' was, she knew but by the way it was said, it wasn't good. She also knew she was the topic of conversation, and that the moment she 'woke up' she would be in for it, big time. But she also wanted to know what they had hypnotised Simon into doing. It didn't sound too good, something about not eating. But her head started throbbing and her hearing was momentarily clouded.

The headache persisted, and although Eleanor was highly-trained, she couldn't help but let out a muffled groan.

The Smith's heard this, and began to ascend on her, smiling like jackals that we're about to go in for the kill.


	10. The Search

**Okay guys, so I'm sorry. I haven't been on here in ages, and Fanfic appear to have deleted most of my Doc's that I were working on, so I've had to start from scratch.**

**If anyone reads this, then thank you, but I wouldn't be surprised if everyone I know has left Fanfic by now, soo... **

**The Search**

* * *

_A world that sends you reeling,_

_Through decimated dreams,_

_Your misery and hate will kill us all!_

_So paint it black,_

_And take it back!_

_Lets shout it loud and clear,_

_Defiant to the end, _

_We hear the call!_

The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

* * *

When Simon came to, his world was all fuzzy, realizing that he wasn't wearing his glasses, he fumbled around, trying to locate them. His paws quickly closed around them, and slipped them onto the bridge of his nose. Then, he proceeded to drag himself into a nearby alcove, seeing as his legs were throbbing for some reason, and his lungs were burning.

When he pulled himself into it, he leant up against the wall, which suddenly triggered a trap door to open, and the young munk was sent sliding down a narrow tunnel. It seemed to go on forever for the delusional chipmunk boy, as white and purple lights span around his head.

When he came up to a corner, the first of three in the network, his body was bent around into an 'r' shape. Then, he very painfully, brought his knees up to his chest, so it was easier passage for him.

This did not work however, when he reached the final corner. For it was so steep he slid up the side of the wall, and he had to remain from screaming as past injuries opened up on his arms and legs.

Then, suddenly, the pipe stopped, and he was sent sprawling to the floor.

He heard a cough. Even in his delusional mind it sounded pretty menacing. He look up, to see a pair of dirty brown eyes looking down on him in disgust. The eyes belonged to the enormous body of a rat, and Simon shuffled away in fear.

The rat bent down, and picked Simon up by the back of the shirt he was wearing underneath his hoodie, thus strangling him as he was lifted off the ground. He then proceeded to punch Simon is the face so hard that he was swinging in his attackers grasp, in, out, closer, further. Punch, relief, punch, relief.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a door slamming nearby, and in stormed another creature that Simon couldn't see properly.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?!" she half screamed. In her voice was the sound of disappointment, and anger, terrible anger.

"Well, you see ma'am, this 'ere chipmun' was intrudin' and it's our jobs to keep little rat scallions like 'im outta 'ere." said the rat, he had a deep rumble voice, unlike the female, who had a high-pitched voice like the chipettes.

"So you decide to beat the living day lights out of a guest?! What if he was a new messenger for Grimblow? Do you expect us to look at least Civilised with every creature that enters is beaten like that?! You are dismissed for the rest of the day. I suggest you think wisely about how you spend it."

The rat made a sound of contempt, and stormed out of the room, dropping Simon on the floor, where he landed with a light 'thump' and curled up into a ball, shaking violently the whole time.

The female was obviously very sure-footed, but she stepped carefully, and kneeled down beside Simon, and spoke to him with a voice like silk.

"It's okay. I'm sorry you had to endure that. Gallow thinks he's in a position of authority here. He soon won't even be that high. My name is Vinny. Now, let's have a look at your face so I can clean it up a bit before you go to Esmerelda." She shuffled back a bit, and Simon, very nervously, poked his head up.

She peered at the chipmunk stood before him. She had creamy white fur, with an oil black stripe running from the pink tip of her nose to the end of her tail. She wore brown coloured robes that looked quite Chinese. But they weren't any brown, they were a brown light enough to remind Simon of the Autumn leaves that fell from the tree outside his old house with Dave years before. Yet it was dark enough to make Vinny's fur look like it was glowing.

He looked up from her garments to her face. It looked young, yet bore the mark of years. She had bags under her eyes.

That's when Simon noticed her eyes.

They were the blue his had once been, bright, intelligent, electric. But the years had not reduced this chipmunks eyes to the gray Simons were. They looked at him lovingly, then, something seemed to snap inside of Vinny, and she took a step back, and looked over Simon once more.

"Tell me, what is your full name?"

Simon sighed, and said what he had to for the years six years.

"Simon Smith." he admitted defeatedly, he was beginning to lose consciousness.

"No it isn't. Your Simon Seville. You used to live with David Seville, did you not?" she asked determinedly.

"Yeah. Who... Are you?"

Suddenly, Simon's head dipped back, and with superhuman speed, he was leaning on Vinny's lap.

" it's okay, your going to be fine..."

Simon wasn't sure whether he heard the next bit right.

"No-one will hurt you again, my son."

He felt his eyes widen, and close again as darkness consumed him.

* * *

***Approximately Four Miles Away***

(Eleanor's POV)

When I awake, I'm curled up in a ball, as I stretch myself awake, I remember what happened at the Smith's house. What happened with Simon. I take a moment to arrange my memories, and that's when I realise that there are ropes around my wrists and ankles.

And just as I notice that, I realise the ropes are quickly becoming taut.

My eyes widen, and I instinctively try to loosen the ropes. But I can't. I look at my right wrist, and realise that it's not rope. It's a rusty handcuff attached to a price of string. I wince as the steel cut into my wrist and ankles, as I pull myself up towards the rope, which is weak and fraying. I hurriedly bite through it and try the same on my other wrist. The rope from my right wrist retracts quickly, and the pull on my left intensifies until I'm biting down on my bottom lip so I won't scream so hard it's bleeding. And my right hand is clenched in a fist that's shaking uncontrollably.

I feel something snap painfully in my leg, and realise it's been dislocated.

I arch my back, and howl in pain as my vision starts to become clouded with pain. I barely notice walking over to me, an evil grin plastered on her face. I feel a sharp pinprick of pain in my left wrist, and I feel a sensation of numbness as whatever was in the inject enters my bloodstream. My brain becomes clouded, and I hear saying something in a far-away voice.

_"Perfect."_

Then the darkness consumes me...

* * *

***Nobody's POV***

The malicious b**ch known as smiled wickedly at the bloodied and beaten figure of Eleanor, and watched, amused, as she tried to free herself from her bonds. The 'rack' hadn't worked, it had full-filled it's purpose though. So long as she knew that they were a force to be reckoned with, the Smith's were ready to start their 'procedure' on her.

Once she injected the drug into her bloodstream, she smirked cruelly as the chipette tossed and turned, groaning and mumbling occasionally in her forced sleep, before proceeding to exit the room, and talk to her 'husband'.

"Dear brother, tell me some good news."

'Mr' Smith thought a moment, then said "Sister, we have all the preparations ready for her to begin. "

"What news of the others?"

"I have just been informed of our SHAT team have located 'Leader' and 'Co 2.' We already know the location of Leader-2, and we have gone cold on Co and G1, as you know. SHAT teams have been sent."

"Oh brother, I do love it when you try to impress me. But the names are for phone calls only, in case the phones are bugged. So, we have found Alvin and Jeanette. We already know Brittany is being moved to America as we speak, because I assume you have sent an AAA team for her. And we have lost ours and the green one."

"By an AAA team, I assume your referring to the Attack And Assasinate team, not the Attack Against Animals team? Or are they both on it?"

"I asked you! And they are the same thing. Different names."

"Oh, okay." he said, nodding his understanding.

His sister looked at him with a look of disapproval on her face.

"Once we have finished training her, we can move to our base in New York. See if we can get any information about who she used to work for."

Then, she stalked out of the room to consult with one of the medics.

* * *

With Brittany

I lie perfectly still, waiting for it. I have decided to believe that this is God punishing me for being arrogant to my my sisters, and Simon and Theodore, and... Alvin. The only reason I haven't gone insane yet. I feel my hands being cuffed in, then my legs. The blindfold is put on my face, face down on the bed. I close my eyes beneath them, and pretend that I'm going to fall asleep.

I feel a pair of rough hands stroke my sides.

They reach my back, and creep up to the base of my neck, where they find my head. They hold my hips, and turn me over, so I'm lying on my back. I cry silently as my arms are twisted, like my legs, just so he can see my face. He takes his hands off me, and suddenly he's kissing me, kissing my lips, hard. There's nothing I can do about it.

Eventually, he stops, and speaks in my ear.

"Hello, Brittany."

I gasp.

"You're going to come with me. Keep your mouth shut, no matter what. Got it?"

I allow a confused expression to cross my face.

"What do you mean? I'm a 10- inch chipmunk, itd be pretty obvious if I just walked out of here."

"I know. Get in the bag. There's clothes for you in it. I am going to try and re-unite you with your family. I know and have talked to Eleanor. I am soon going to be able to talk to Alvin and Jeanette. The location of Simon and Theodore are yet to be disclosed to me, but with your help, we might be ale to find them. How would you like that? Now, get in the bag." he said as he finished on her feet. She jumped off the bed, and her hands went to her face, to the blindfold.

"No. Don't take that off. Once your changed, and in the bag you can. But not yet. Don't put the clothes on yet. I'm going to tie your paws behind your back, make it look like your being kidnapped, okay?" he tied her hands up, and then her feet, and threw her back into the bag, none too gently either.

He zipped the bag up, and picked it up, leaving the room.

He could be heard talking to the Matron on his way out, then they were out on the streets, Brittany started to get to work on her bindings. She blindly felt her way around the bag, and found a small top, which she put on gratefully, she then found what felt like a small skirt, which she also put on.

She felt the bag being put down, and sat down inside it. As far as she could sense, the bag had been opened, and the man was looking down at her. He shuffled, and said "You can take the blindfold off now."

She did so, and looked down at herself. She wore a pale orange top with a matching skirt that flowed past her knees. The man was rummaging through the bag. He pulled out a white piece of fabric, and some white socks, which he passed to her.

"Put them on." she did so, and pulled them up to her knees, but they fell back around her ankles loosely. She growled slightly in frustration, before he spoke again, voice calm. "They are meant to hang low, Brittany. It's your new look we're applying to get you to America. Okay? You might want these." he passed her some fake glasses, they were white, and shaped like Simon's had once been, only smaller. They didn't have plastic lenses, and Brittany had trouble seeing out of them. She blinked a couple of times, and placed the placed the peice of fabric behind her head, and wrapped it around, she pulled out some orange material, and wrapped it around her shoulders, making her look like a hippy.

"How's this?" she asked.

"Perfect. Except for one thing." he reached intish is jacket pocket and pulled out a blurred object, and put it into her arm. Brittany tried to pull away, but the drug was already in her system and working its way around her body. Her vision blurred, then adjusted, and she could suddenly see fine through the glasses. She felt a strange feeling towards the man before her, like... She wanted to please him, obey his every order.

"Get back in the bag." he ordered, and she did so without hesitation. "Get out, stand on the table." again, she complied.

"Okay, your byname is now Eliza. You are originally from Australia, but your adopted parents moved here because of a wedding. We will review this on the way to the airport. Now, get in the car."

"Yes." she saw a Ferrari, and climbed in through the open window.

"Good. Good..."


End file.
